


Last bouquet

by SlaveToGravity



Category: jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Death, Flowers, M/M, One-Sided Love, Petals, Sickness, hanahaki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 16:59:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7540684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlaveToGravity/pseuds/SlaveToGravity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His countdown started. Three weeks. He had three weeks to die alone, under all those beautiful flowers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last bouquet

**Author's Note:**

> Okidoki.  
> So, I'm sorry for saying that again and again, and I'm sorry for complaining about that, but I'm french. And I'm saddly not that good at english. So, please, if you see any kind of mistake, please tell me. I want to let you read something readable (?) that you can enjoy without saying "there is a fault here" every two words. One day, I'll stop bethering you with that.
> 
> And, I also wanted to thank you. Because, thanks to you, "Magic doesn't exist" had more than 300 hits, and 40 kudos ! I've never been able to post something without stressing because of that, and all your kind comments and feedbacks are making me so happy. Thank you so much, whoever you are. I love you all ;u;
> 
> Now, you can read, I'll bother you at the end :3

          It hurts. More than anything. More than burning alive, more than any other pain possible. Not only physically, but also mentally. The perfect mix between being torn apart and knowing the end of your own little and silly life. The awful great mix killing you every minute more than before, hurting too much for a weak human body and a simple brain. He knew that he shouldn't have done that, but he couldn't stop himself. He fell for him. For his personality, for his body, for his words, for his single existence. He fell for his lies, and his devilish heart. He fell in love with his best friend.  
           During years and years, they talked together. They did cooperation, they went on vacation, they did conventions, and during all these years, nothing changed, and nothing like this came to destroy his poor and weak mind. Everything was so perfect before, so well calculated. They had friends, and they both had girlfriends that they loved dearly. But something came, one day, and demented one side of this perfect equation. Only one side. Not the two, only one. It would have been too easy otherwise, right ?And nothing was easy down here. Not even what was supposed to make you happy, not even love. That one-sided love that took over anything else in Jack's mind. Everything was so perfect for him : a growing Youtube channel, a beautiful and lovely girlfriend, true friends, everything was so beautiful, so cliché. Why did it all changed all of a sudden ? Because it was too easy, too beautiful, and noone loves easy games and romantic stories. Not even Jack. Not even me.  
           One day, the countdown started. Like a clock under his heart, a sword above his head, his last countdown started playing his regular music. And it started at the first petal. A tiny petal, slightly colored with weak shades of red and pink. This sharp petal came out of his mouth while he was coughing. He didn't know. How could he ? How could he know that this only petal was marking the end of his short life ? That it was engraving on his pale skin the start of his last three weeks ? How could he know ?  
           Another petal appeared. Jack didn't understand what this meant. Was he sick ? Was he dying ? Why ? Where does it come from ? He couldn't process what was happening to him. He couldn't figure out what it was. And when a third petal exited his painful and dry throat, with a light shade of purple, he decided to do a little research. His own research, on his computer, alone, in his silent apartment where, after twenty minutes, loud sobs echoed throught the night. Hanahaki. A fictionnal sickness where a one-sided love was punished by a beautiful and poetic pain. Where thousand and thousand flowers of marvellous shades were cutting your entire body, engraving your deadly mistake on your skin. Where everyday, your life was shorten by those multicolors petals. Because of one and only love. Because he shouldn't love his best friend this way. Because it wasn't meant to be like that. It is like an entire theatre, a play where Jack didn't follow the script. And because of that, at the end, he was punished. By what ? By a beautiful death ? By a romantic pain ? By an endless torture ? How cruel, how beautiful. Did he deserve this ? No, of course not. But was he going to avoid it ? No, never. Because, this side of the story, was meant to be. And who could avoid fate ? Not even Jack. Not even me.  
           He lost one week. One entire week, rambling, crying, screaming, yelling even more than possible. His throat, full of flowers, red, pink, orange and purple flowers, spilling an endless amount of blood, was making him suffer more than ever before. But all Jack could blame was his own self. His pityful, dying self. And, because of that, he lost a week. One precious week. He couldn't grab the past, he couldn't collect the lost time, too far away from his weak reach. And he couldn't back up his broken clock, he couldn't throw away his deadly sword, he couldn't do anything. He was useless for his own health, for his own self.  
He dreamed about him. Behind his endless suffer, despite his pain, he dreamed about the one he loved. He dreamed about his form, his voice, his eyes, his smile, he dreamed about him all the time. And, even if there were always one petal at the edge of his mouth, one tear dripping from his blue eyes, he was always smiling when his lover was texting him, making sure he was okay. No, of course, he wasn't okay. But he didn't want to alarm him, he only wanted to die behind his screen, surronded by an endless ocean of poetic flowers. Because Jack didn't care anymore about his own body. He only cared about Mark. Only Mark. Jack stopped talking to his subscribers. He stopped going throught all the kind and lovely comments, he stopped checking his Youtube channel, his Twitter account, his Tumblr, he stopped everything. He just waited behind his cold screen, watching Mark smile, laugh, cry, yell, at some stupid games. When Mark was crying, Jack was crying too. When he was smiling, Jack was smiling too. He was like him, but with more problems. With more blood behind his teeth, more flowers stucked in his soar throat, and less time to live. And that's how he lost his second week. By giving up on all the things he built during years and years of work, and watching his love being happy for him. That was all he dared to care about. And that's all he did during one week. Suffering and loving.

" I'm sorry guys, but I'll stop doing Youtube. I won't upload videos anymore. And this is the last thing I'll be posting on every social media. I'm sorry for giving up on you so easily. I swear I love you all. I don't give up because of a new interest or because I don't want to do Youtube anymore. I swear again, it's not because of that. I can't tell you why exactly I'm stopping Youtube, I'm sorry. But you'll know. In one week, you'll all know why. Not from my words, but from someone else. I don't know who, but you'll know. I'm sorry again guys. Goodbye. I widh you a greater life than mine. "  
           That's all Mark could read. On Twitter, on Tumblr, facebook, even Youtube, That's all he could see, all he could know. What was happening to Jack right now ? He tried to call him, to text him, to see him, but he never got any sort of answer. The only thing that he saw coming from Jack was a photo of some sort of flower. A strange yet beautiful flower, with different shades of read, pink and orange. And he saw it on Instagram with this same text, blurry, with as an only answer the sentence "You'll all know why". He'll know in one week why Jack stopped Youtube, why he suddenly gave up. But Mark couldn't wait. He knew too well what waiting would bring him. And he couldn't dare wait anymore. Two days ago, he bought a ticket. And in four days, he should be flying to Ireland. That's all he could do right now. He tried to reassure his subscribers, to help Jack with his messages, he tried everything. He knew he could something and even if it was making him do more job, sleeping less than before, he did it all. Not only for him, but for Jack too. Because Jack was and is still his best friend. So why would he give up on him ? He could suffer for him, this wouldn't matter.  
           Four long days where all Mark did was responding to questions. All the same. With the same name, the same words, the same goal. Everything was the same. Nothing changed during those four long and almost endless days, with this monotonous routine of him. Waking up, filming, editing, posting, answering, worrying, sleeping. A routine he didn't want to do anymore. And today, it will change.He will have answers. He took a suitcase with the strict necessary inside, he kissed quickly his lovely girlfriend, and went to his plane. And waited. waited. Again and again. Where, all he saw during his wait, were the black little screen in front of him in the plane. And, after about ten hours of flight, he ran away from the plane, took his belongings, and hurried. Faster than ever, he ran. He passed throught monuments, beautiful places, joyful strangers, he passed throught what was too happy, too clear and colorful for his worried mood. He passed throught all of that. He couldn't stop. He couldn't watch the world moving around him. He could only run. Run like if death was behind him. Behind Jack.

          The red of his blood and the pink of the flowers were painted on the walls. The purple of the petals and the orange of the little hearts were suffocating him. And the endless sea of death and beauty was killing him slowly, too slowly, for someone who only dared to love the wrong person. For one pain, one flower. And for an endless pain, an endless tide of nature, beauty, almost magically tragic flowers. Jack was dying, drowning in his own creation, his flowers, suffering in this beautiful painting where, surronded by flowers of different warm shades, his pale skin was fighting against the weak light of the after-noon. His blue eyes, tired, dead, were reflecting the beauty of all those flowers, of the pinkish sky, the orange shade of the late sun. Everything in this room was magic, so beautiful, so poetic, so calm, silent, quiet, dead, asleep...  
           A knock. Two knocks, three, four, five. More. Destroying the silence, waking up the flowers, terrifying the broken clock under his broken heart. Jack didn't speak, only listened. A voice. Deep, reassuring, yet terrifying. An awful, hideous sensation cursed throughout Jack's weak body. He told them, no, him, to wait. Only one day, another day, and it would have been okay, he wouldn't have to explain anything. But here he was, outside, waiting for an answer. Another knock, another silent answer. Jack made a mistake. Again. He didn't lock his door. He waited to be found. Not by him, by a stranger, a member of his family, his lovely ex girflfriend, the medias, but not him.  
           The door opened violently. Flowers flew everywhere. Red, purple, orange, pink blurry stains flew through the room. Mark passed through all the flowers. His eyes landed on Jack's body. Was he dead ? No. Almost. Maybe ? He caught hurrydly Jack's pale and weak hand.

" - What hapened ? Jack, what's happening ? Are you okay ? Please, answer me ! "

          He looked at Mark's face. Tiredness, distress, sadness, worry, confusion. And his eyes. Oh, his eyes. As deep as his voice, as beautiful as his heart, his own existence. What a perfect view to die.

" - Jack, please, say something. Tell me you're okay. Tell me you bought all these flowers. Tell me this is not your blood staining your walls. Please, tell me. Answer me. "

          Oh, no, don't cry. Hush, listen to this melody. The silence, the wind, the flowers, the dying day. Just look at this beauty, this despair, all these splendid blood-stains. Don't cry, please, don't cry. He doesn't want to see you cry.

" - Mark... Please, don't cry.  
\- Jack ! Are you okay ? Please !  
\- Mark, look around you. Isn't it beautiful ?  
\- Oh, Jack, are you crazy ? Tell me what's happening, please...  
\- I tried to love you, Mark. I tried too big, too little, who knows... "

          They told him to stay away from things that aren't his. They told him not to change what they offered him, they told him not to solve the equation they created, not to dream about another chance. But he did. He did too much, he did not enough, he did. What a mistake.

" - Jack, I'm sorry. I can try, I can.  
\- I tried. Please, don't waste what you have. "

          Don't love, don't feel, don't change. That's what they told him. He didn't listen, as always. Why was he suffering ? He just wanted to love.

  You know, Mark...

          He cried.

  I thought I was going to die alone...

          He suffered.

  I thought I wouldn't see you again...

          He closed his eyes.

  But I was wrong again...

          He closed his mouth.

  I love you. Too much, not enough... Who knows...

          He listened to the loud sobs of Mark.

  But you'll never hear me say that...

Too much flowers in his soar throat, not enough time. Too much thoughts, too much desires, wishes, not enough life. And, in his last day, his last hour, his last minute, his last breath, he offered to his lover a priceless bouquet of flowers.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little way-too-difficult-to-write story. Under the hot weather, my own lasyness and the books I have to read for my next year, I'm sleeping at any moment. Even when I watch a Jackspeticeye's video. And it's a problem. But ah, I'm talking for nothing. I really hope you enjoyed, despite the shitty start and the looong and sometime useless text. My mother said that I was writing too much detail and that I should go directly to the action and the interesting parts, but... I don't really like the idea. Anyway, if you think she's right, I'll try to change a little.  
> I wish you a great day, great night, great life. Goodbye :3


End file.
